


We Ain't Ever Getting Older

by Diaphenia



Category: Superstore (TV), The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Masturbation, Sharing a Bed, The Good Place fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/pseuds/Diaphenia
Summary: Jonah was weirdly excited about the wedding. “You don’t understand. I’ve been to a million weddings. Not to brag, but I’m basically a professional piece of arm candy. You know how it is. Girl in the dorm needs a date to her brother’s wedding, and she asks, and she had such a good time that she recommended me to her friends, and--”“Really, can I listen to your tales of wedding prostitution later?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blithers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithers/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, blithers!
> 
> Thanks to throwingpens, who first thought about killing everyone off and sending them to our other favorite NBC sitcom, and to yumytaffy, who pointed out that Robert Redford couldn't be in the Bad Place given that he's not technically dead.

Amy woke up with a splitting headache and a bright light in her face. She blinked. 

This was _not_ her bedroom.

Squinting, she sat up. She was on a cot, in a room with white walls. There were other beds with other people laying on them. 

She had to _focus_ , had to _leave_ , had to get _home_. Emma had school, she needed breakfast and to grab her backpack and to get a kiss goodbye. She always kissed her daughter goodbye, even when she had to be at work before dawn, she would sneak in and kiss her for the day.

She reached for her cell phone, and it wasn’t in her pocket. It was always in her pocket, even when the company policy against cell phone use got real ridiculous. _Don’t panic_ , she told herself.

She slid off her cot, her bare feet hitting the cold tile. She hissed, padding over to bed next to her, one in a long line of beds with sleeping people on them.

It was _Jonah_.

***

“Welcome to The Medium Place. I’m Gabe, I basically run this joint.” A young man with olive skin smiled at them. “This is your afterlife.”

The crowd of people, not quiet to begin with, swelled with noisy confusion. Amy, who’d had the longest to sit with this information, balled a fist into her eye. She would not cry about this. She would not. 

“I find it’s better to tell everyone at once, since telling everyone separately is a real bummer.” 

“Listen,” Dina said, standing up without being called on. “There’s a bunch of Cloud 9 employees here. I think I speak for everyone when I say that I was hoping one of them would step up and take care of my birds in the event of my early demise.”

“You should have had a will,” Gabe said smoothly. “You can leave money for the care of your pets.”

“I made $10.25 an hour,” Dina said. “I could barely afford whole grains.”

“I think what she meant to ask is how we all died,” Mateo said, standing up with his hand raised. 

“Bad hot dogs at the potluck this morning. You’ve got to remember, that’s still technically meat, which means they do need to follow proper refrigeration prior to cooking.”

Gabe scanned the crowd. “Yes, man in the dopey tie.”

Glenn’s high whine rolled across the crowd. “I was told I was going to heaven. I donated money to the church, I prayed without ever asking for the Cardinals to win, I adopted numerous children...”

“Listen, perhaps I did not make this clear. You’re in the Medium Place. Believe me, that this is an improvement over the Bad Place. It’s this new idea we’re trying out, based on the wailing of the people in the Bad Place. And believe me when I say people in the Bad Place are unhappy. You’d think it would be a 24/7 party with all the stars they have down there. Biggie and Tupac and Paul Newman. But no, it’s no party. 

“Meanwhile, none of you deserved to go to the Good Place. And why would you want to? It’s all frozen yogurt and small animals and sunshine every day. Here, you will work for a living.

“One of the concepts we have borrowed from the Good Place is that you will get matched with your soulmate.”

“But I was married,” a woman said, her gray hair wild around her face. “And she isn’t here with me.”

“Listen,” Gabe said, looking serious. “Your soulmate is almost never the person you marry. We have people of all types here, all races and colors and creeds, from every corner of the world. You think your soulmate is someone you happened to meet and marry? That never happens. Well, once.”

The woman, still looking distraught, sat back down.

“You will all have welcome packets, translated into your native tongues, in your new domiciles. Your soulmate will be there. Please be kind to your soulmate, as I have exactly the correct number of domiciles for each of you paired. I’m going to snap—”

***

“Amy!” Jonah said. 

“Oh, no,” she breathed. 

“I can’t believe it’s you and me forever! In this apartment. I think it’s a studio—” he disappeared briefly. “It’s definitely a studio. Sort of reminds me of my place in Chicago actually. Have I ever told you about it? I was a block from my bus stop and there was a delightful bodega where I could buy the Trib every morning. And across the street from that was—”

“Can you please shut up for just like three minutes?” Amy sat down on the bed, the biggest piece of furniture in the room. “I need to think.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll see if I can’t find some bagels or something.” He disappeared out the front door.

“I just want to know Emma is ok,” she whispered. 

“I can help with that.” Suddenly, there was a dark-skinned woman in a purple dress standing next to the bed.

Amy didn’t even have the energy to be surprised.

“I’m Janet. I can give you information on almost any topic.”

“Are you a robot?”

“I’m a concept, more or less. Your human intellect is not such that you could process it.”

“Could have just said ‘robot,’” Amy muttered. “Can you tell me about what’s happening on Earth?”

“Your daughter is fine. So is your husband. They are both emotional right now, but time will heal them. She will be more upset when Adam remarries, since his wedding will be on her thirteenth birthday.”

So there was that.

***

“Have you noticed there’s only one bed?” Jonah asked her. He was in the kitchen, spreading lox carefully, but as the apartment was not large, he was basically in the living room. Or bedroom, such as it was. 

“I hadn’t thought about it much,” Amy said. She was gnawing on a hangnail, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“I checked. We still need to sleep. And eat. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I have had other stuff on my mind.” 

“Listen, I wasn’t sure what kind of bagels you wanted, so I bought four different kinds. There’s cream cheese, too.”

She ignored him. 

A few minutes and a bagel later, Jonah started in on her again. “I was doing a little investigating. Dina lives in this same building, and Garrett’s across the street. Apparently, and I can’t confirm this, but he’s still in his wheelchair. I would be pretty peeved if I died, after being a good person, and then I still had to use assistive devices.”

“But we weren’t good people,” Amy said. “I thought I was a good person. I was devoted to my kid, monogamous with my husband, I worked hard and was kind to old people, but none of that got me in the The Good Place. Instead, we’re in some shitty hell hole.”

“Technically I think actual hell is different. More flames, sulfur, guy with horns.”

“It’s just, I tried. I did. Do I think I always succeeded at being good? Absolutely not. But apparently there’s a wide range of people who get stuck in purgatory jail, so I think I didn’t have to try so hard.”

“So the reason I brought up the whole bed thing is that I was actually hoping to get to get some sleep soon,” Jonah said. “But there’s only the one...”

Amy suddenly realized she was very tired. “That’s a great idea. I’m going to sleep, too. Listen, do you mind sleeping somewhere else?”

“Sure, absolutely, whatever you need.”

She was poking around, trying to figure out if she owned pajamas in purgatory when she heard Jonah.

“It’s just that— there isn’t anywhere else to sleep, currently. We don’t have a couch or a bathtub, even. It’s a murphy bed, so there isn’t even a lot of floor space, you know. I’m not entirely clear where we’re supposed to sit when the bed’s in the wall, so...”

She looked up and saw him looking at her, sheepish. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be... Pajamas are in the kitchen cabinets, just so you know. No closet space.”

“Fine, you can sleep on the bed with me, but I’m married. Sort of.”

“No, I respect that.”

“Just because I don’t have my ring with me, or live in the same plane of existence...” Suddenly, she was very tired. “Do whatever you want,” she said, curling up, still in her Cloud 9 vest.

***

When she woke up, Jonah was firmly on his side of the bed. 

***

There was a coffee maker in the kitchen, and she sat on the counter next to it. She didn’t have anywhere to be. On earth, she’d be hustling her kid out the door, or her husband, and running herself to work afterwards. If she didn’t have work, she had a dozen errands, or a messy living room, but right now? All she had was coffee.

It was nice. She had friends— Facebook friends— who lived like this. Who worked from home and wore beautiful sweaters, who had time to maintain instagram accounts detailing their sweaters and coffees and perfect hair, who had no kids to chase. They always seemed well-rested.

Maybe she’d explore today. Go figure out where Glenn was living. Get some non-bagel food. Not think about Earth. She closed her eyes and focused on her sip of coffee.

She could hear Jonah rustling for a few minutes, and then he said, already perky, “We have to go to the meeting.”

“What meeting?”

“Oh! It’s so cool. I was talking to Janet— she’s so easy to talk to, she just answers any questions you have, even if you have hours of questions. There are so many _logistics_ to running the afterlife, like they build these neighborhoods from—”

“Jonah,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Jonah. Focus. What meeting?”

“We get our jobs today.”

_Oh._

***

“So, how many people actually died of disgusting potluck food?” Garrett asked Janet. “Because I told people never to eat anything cooked by our team.” The meeting hadn’t started yet, so Amy had made a beeline for the people she recognized: Glenn, Dina, and Garrett. Jonah had followed her, of course. 

“The deaths at the Ozark Highland Road Cloud 9 on November 25th, 2016, took the lives of Amy Dubanowski, floor supervisor, Garrett McNeil, floor worker, Glenn Sturgis, store manager—”

The weirdest part about this, to Amy, was that she didn’t remember her own death. What even _was_ that, she should _at least_ remember that.

“Wait, does that mean Cheyanne got to live? That doesn’t seem very fair,” Mateo said. “I wanted to live.”

“Are you seriously going to complain about a teen mother not dying?” Garret asked. “Because I’m mad too, but I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“She has a baby at home,” Glenn said. “Of course, I have thirteen kids living at my home with my wife, who can’t work. I was the breadwinner, but I’m sure she’s going to be ok. We have life insurance.”

“It will take over six months for the insurance claim to settle,” Janet said. “That’s unusual, but it’s also inconvenient.” 

Glenn’s face fell. 

Dina stepped forward. “Hey wait a minute. If Sandra died, where the hell is she?” 

“Sandra is in the Good Place,” Janet said. “She is living in a mansion decorated in the rococo style, which she loves.”

“Sounds hideous,” Dina said. “God, Sandra.”

***

“It could be worse,” Jonah said, pushing a broom across a dusty floor laminate floor, past a display of cold medicine. “We could be coal mining. I don’t even get why people in the afterlife would even need coal.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear from you,” Amy said. “Sympathy for other people. Not empathy for me.”

“I think this is nice,” Glenn said. “We already know how this all works. Can you imagine if you were trying to learn the pricing guns for the first time?”

“I don’t understand why there are cash registers if there’s no money,” Mateo said. 

“Inventory control,” Jonah said. “I bet it’s inventory control, to know when to order more product.”

“Because that’s somehow more logical?” Garrett wheeled by. “As if this afterlife couldn’t get any more annoying.”

Dina stepped up. “Listen, as your new manager-slash-overlord, I have to say, I never thought I would have to die just to get a leg up in this business, but fine. Keep in mind we are the entirety of the crew here. Of course, we’re also limited to the four hundred and ninety six people of The Medium Place, so that’s way fewer customers.”

***

When Amy walked home, Jonah following close behind, she took time to look around. There was a tax accountant, his sign up and his office empty. There was a nondescript office building with a few office workers in suits trickling out.

“You know, we could work in offices,” Amy said. 

“Sure, we could do anything,” Jonah said, hands in his pockets. 

“It’s just so dumb that we’re stuck forever doing the same job. I hated that job. I wanted better.”

“I always assumed a few years in, work hard, get promoted, maybe to the corporate offices. I get a nameplate on my desk, nothing fancy. A few years after that, I get a team, get promoted again, office with a door. From there, state senator.”

“Your confidence is overwhelming. And misplaced.”

***

Work was quiet, but then, work was always quiet. People came in occasionally, but unlike those on earth, they didn’t stand by, endlessly debating prices. 

“Has anyone noticed that the coffee makers are still marked ‘Made in China?’” Mateo asked, stacking a display.

Amy didn’t even want to know. 

***

“Do you miss the world?” Amy asked Jonah, at night in bed. They were at least a foot apart. They were always at least a foot apart.

“I mean, sure. Of course I wish I was alive. I miss breathing.” 

She missed breathing, too. It was such a strange thing to miss, but she swore her lungs were atrophying from disuse. “Aren’t you concerned about your friends and your family?”

“Of course, but I already checked with Janet. There’s literally nothing we can do from up here. That’s not to say I don’t have regrets.”

“Oh boy.”

“I was going to be a sustaining member of PBS, I wanted to run a half marathon, I was going to finish that 3D puzzle of the Eiffel Tower. I was going to grow a beard.”

“Me too,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

***

Amy was entirely alone in the apartment. Jonah was having lunch with Mateo, or going for a run, or something. He’d told her, not that she’d been listening. He constantly felt the need to tell her where he was going. “It’s just nice having a roommate,” he’d told her. “Someone to wonder where you are.”

This was the first time since her birth no one wondered where she was. Her parents had been strict setting her curfew way earlier than her classmates. That hadn’t stopped her from getting pregnant— joke was on them— and after that, staying out late was a complete joke. She’d been accounted for in some way for her entire life. 

It was nice to have some goddamn privacy, honestly. 

She’d picked up a small television at Heavenly Day. The Medium Place had, like, super cable. It was like Netflix met the new DVD section of Cloud 9. Every show she’d ever wanted to watch was available at her fingertips. 

She turned on _Scrubs_ , again. 

This show really did romance well. She’d been super into Carla and Turk back in high school. Life would have been different if she’d dated a Turk.

Watching them kiss was hot. She hadn’t been kissed like that in ages. Even when she was alive, with her husband, they worked mostly opposite schedules. She had sex pretty regularly and it was good, but it wasn’t _sensual_ , not when they had a kid to raise and bills to pay. Who had the time? Her sex life was quickies in the bedroom after homework but before laundry. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d masturbated with something other than her trusty vibrator, mostly while she did flash cards for her business classes or contemplated floor schedules. 

She deserved masturbation without multitasking. 

She paused the tv mid-kiss, then slipped her hand into the waistband of her cotton underwear. She felt her untrimmed hair, reaching towards her center. She wasn’t wet, but that was ok. She played in her head the usual loop of sexual fantasies that would get her there. She flashed on everyone she’d ever found hot— Gilbert Blythe, Shawn Matthews, Serena Williams— until she had something to work with. Unlike usual, she let herself go slowly. 

She kept her two fingers in a tight circle, finding a rhythm that worked for her. She used her other hand to dip up her sweater. Her nipple was tight with anticipation, and she touched it gently, the same way Adam would back before she took off her pants and their sex life became so focused on _sex_. The light weight on her breast was enough to really get her close, so she closed her eyes, tightening the circles and moving with reall—

“Amy!” 

She opened her eyes and there was Jonah, a foot in the door and a foot away from the bed. His mouth was open and his eyes were on her. 

“God, look away!” She pulled the covers up to her neck, trying desperately to block him. “Pervert!”

He shook his head, putting both hands over his eyes. “I’m sorry! I can leave and come back later. You can take as long as you— I can come back _tomorrow_ , I was just surprised—” He tried to back out of the apartment, only to slam the door shut with him still inside. He yelped in surprise, his hands going towards his shin.

“Hands over your eyes!”

“Sorry!” 

A moment later she had her wrinkled clothes smoothed out, and the most dignified look she could manage on her face. “It’s fine. You didn’t see anything.”

He turned around, his cheeks just a little pink. “Nothing. Well, almost nothing.”

***

“If you ever need to— privacy, I mean, any time you need—”

“Jonah! Stop!”

***

Janet delivered the invitation on a Monday. Amy ran her finger over the front. _Amy and Jonah_. She opened it slowly. Dina was marrying her soulmate, a small slip of a man from Europe. The wedding was six days away. 

They were registered, of course, at Heavenly Day.

Jonah was weirdly excited about the wedding. “You don’t understand. I’ve been to a million weddings. Not to brag, but I’m basically a professional piece of arm candy. You know how it is. Girl in the dorm needs a date to her brother’s wedding, and she asks, and she has such a good time that she recommended me to her friends, and—”

“Really, can I listen to your tales of wedding prostitution later?” 

“Sorry! I was just trying to say I thought we’d have fun. If you want to go with me, which you certainly don’t have to. I could go with a group, I’ve also been to a bunch of weddings that way. In college—”

“Fine! I will attend with you. Not as a date. But you’re not wearing a matching cummerbund.”

***

“Amy! I need you!” Dina yelled, appearing out of nowhere. 

Amy almost dropped the can she was stacking. She looked around to see what was happening. 

A single customer wandered around, carrying a basket filled with Cheetos. 

“You want to take it down a notch?” Amy turned back to her display. 

“I need your help. I have a wedding in five days, and I need a dress that’s going to make me look good. No, not good. Like a badass boxer.”

“Why me? Why now, I don’t know, Mateo?”

“That’s a stereotype. Have you even seen how terrible his sweaters are?” Dina tugged on Amy’s arm. “You could be my bridesmaid.”

“I feel like you’re offering me a role in your wedding so I’d do you a favor.”

“Absolutely. That’s the point of bridesmaids. Matching servants for your big day.”

Amy sighed. “Ok.”

***

The bridal shop was on a busy pedestrian walkway, wedged between a McDonald's and a Burger King. 

Amy pushed through the door, hearing the _ding_ of the door chime.

A frail-looking Indian-American woman took delicate steps over to them. “Customers! I’m so glad to see you. You have no idea how lonely it is here. I have helped, maximum, two women since we got here and they were marrying each other. There’s only so many times you can dust the accessories display before you want to stab yourself with a hair comb.” She laughed loudly. 

“It’s sort of weird you have to put in a full work week. I bet you could be appointment only,” Amy said soothingly.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was going to get my law degree, get out of the wedding business. No more Saturdays with silly women under the influence of society and their mothers. Just me, a stack of case law books, and a giant salary.”

“But you never got your degree?”

She laughed. “Oh, I got my JD. America’s oversaturated with lawyers. I had to put in double shifts just to start to pay back my loans.”

Amy thought about all those expensive textbooks she’d bought, now gathering dust mostly likely. “It’s weird that we stick with our earth jobs up here. There’s no reason you couldn’t be an afterlife lawyer.”

“I don’t know why we don’t have an army of Janets for—”

“Ok, ladies, enough chit-chat.” Dina, who had spent a few minutes over by the guest books, popped back up. “I need a dress for the wedding of my dreams to my soulmate. He has rugged good looks and an need for adventure in his life. My friend here is stuck with a delicate milk maid, and she needs a bridesmaid dress that will—” _wink_ “ help her poach someone else’s soulmate.”

“Ok, wow. This is not _my_ goal, I don’t—”

“Ladies! Let’s look dresses.”

***

“You look like a cupcake!”

“Thanks, Jonah. Do you know how hard it is to get into a poof ball like this?” She spun around so he could see every bit of the horrible green satin, purposefully unfinished edges, and excess fabric pooling around her waist. 

“I’m sure they could see you from earth!” Jonah laughed.

Amy squinted. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jonah said. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Forget it,” she said, shaking her head. “Let’s find our place cards.”

“I like this steak,” Glenn said brightly. “A lot of time wedding food is bland. This is salty.”

“This is the chewiest, grossest steak I’ve ever eaten,” Mateo said. 

“Its tough to cook for so many people at once,” Jonah said, looking around the huge room. “We have hundreds of guests and traditionally underpaid kitchen workers—”

“I’m also underpaid,” Mateo said. “Or I was. Now I have a lawyer boyfriend so it’s fine.” He tilted his head towards his boyfriend Nick, a Taye Diggs type, minus the height.

“There’s no money up here. Down here?” Jonah said. “Sideways here?”

“There are still such things as status,” Mateo said. “Lawyers beat hourly employees any day of the week.”

“I hated my job,” Nick said. “If there was a way out of it, I’d use that little scan gun all day for eternity. Imagine working for a soulless corporation that doesn’t care about you.”

“Sounds terrible,” Amy said, cutting her rubbery chicken into smaller pieces. 

“You all were practically family,” Nick said. “I had sycophants and suck-ups.”

“Sounds awful, baby,” Mateo said. He leaned up, pressing his forehead against Nick’s. 

Amy was saved from yet more PDA when Janet tapped a microphone. 

“I’d like to welcome everyone to the wedding of Jonathan and Dina. Wasn’t that an accurate ceremony? Yeah! That’s enough clapping. And now, a word from the matron of honor, Amy Dubinowski!”

Amy, who was mid-chew, almost choked. Could she die again and get out of giving an impromptu speech?

She made her way past a dozen tables and grabbed the mic.

“I’ve known Dina since, well, Earth, where we worked together. She was loud, competitive, but also bossy.

“She was a coworker, but more than that, she was someone I saw every day, at work. I saw her grow from a bird-obsessed stranger to someone I would continue to see for the rest of my life... or death? I see her a lot, is the point.

“I don’t know Jonathan very well, but I know he must be strong-willed and just great, to win Dina like this. 

“Finally, I am so glad to see my— friend, I suppose, find love. Thank you.”

“That went real well,” Garrett said, looking at Amy appraisingly as she sat down. “You definitely sound like a person she described as ‘her best friend’ in her vows for whatever reason.”

“I didn’t see you have to go up there and give a big speech.”

“Because I know better than to get involved in weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs, quinceaneras... I tell people my legs hurt and then I do not attend.”

“So why are you here?”

“Everyone else is here. Besides, I wanted to see what Dina looked like in her dress.”

There was another microphone tap, and Janet announced the first dance. Dina and her soulmate twirled around the dancefloor, Dina leading the entire time. When they finally twirled off the floor, Janet got back on mic. “We need all the soulmates on the dancefloor for this next song. Pair up!”

Amy looked around as Glenn’s roommate/soulmate shook her head, staying in her seat. Garrett rolled up to the floor, waving over his lady from the cupcake line. Mateo and Nick were sucking face in the corner, apparently blind to the rest of the group.

Thank god Jonah had stepped out or she’d have to—

“May I have this dance?” he asked, smiling down at her. 

“You know what? Fine. But I’m not great at it.”

“My feet are quite nimble. Did I ever tell you about—”

“Your two months as a hip-hop dancer in college? Several times, in fact.”

He pulled her towards him with slightly more force than she would have guessed, and in her surprise, she pressed against him for a moment. He felt warm and surprisingly strong. She glanced up, and he was looking at her already, a slight smile on his face. 

If she still had a heartbeat, it would be pumping wildly. 

He led her around the dance floor, holding her tight. 

“I haven’t danced with anyone besides Adam in years,” she said. 

“You’re pretty good at it,” he said, almost certainly lying. 

“I know this is awkward,” she said, twirling at his direction. “Because I’m not— you deserve a— it’s weird that we’re supposed to be, well, _soulmates_.”

“I know,” he said. “You deserve way better.”

She looked up, and he was looking at her, completely sincere, like when he described the horrors of gentrification or his desire to see more organic macaron shops.

She looked at his lips.

He looked at her looking at his lips. 

She leaned in. 

“Well look at you two!” Glenn said, coming up between them. “Don’t you look precious! My two favorite employees, dancing together.”

“We’re just having a great time,” Jonah said, suddenly the smooth lothario. He spun her away from him, and she took a moment to shake the cobwebs from her brain. What _was_ that? This was _Jonah_. 

But as soon as he pulled her back close, she felt it again. That small fissure of desire, heating her every time she touched him, every time she pressed her chest against his. She wondered if Glenn could see, if the whole dance floor could see. 

And then the song was over, and he let go. 

She reached back for him, but he didn’t see.

***

“That was a fun wedding, right?” Jonah said, climbing into the giant bed with her that night. 

“I had a great time,” Amy said, and she meant it. After the weirdness with Jonah, she’d focused on dancing with her friends, eating cake, and drinking. She was pleasantly buzzed, feeling a little disconnected from herself. “Way to start limbo up. ‘How low can you go’ is really more like, how many times can a stick whack you.”

“I thought it would be ironic. You know, because we’re in—”

“Dead. Because we’re dead.”

“I’m sorry, I know you’re still—”

“No, it’s fine.” She sat up, looking straight at him. “I mean, I wanted to grow old, but I also wanted to have a better job and a better life and to have those fun single years. I love Emma, but I wish I could have gone to college first.”

“Emma was great, is great. Very smart kid. Takes after her mom.”

“It’s like I wanted everything and got only a tiny fraction of those things.” She leaned back on the headboard, staring at the ceiling. “What did you want?”

“Honestly, I think I got most of things I wanted. I got a loving, supportive family, good friends. I got to go to school in the city, which was great, but I think St. Louis was a good size place to settle down.”

“That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard. You quit grad school, probably owed a million dollars on your loan—”

“Only like twenty thou, but that was only one semester.”

“And you were working the worst possible job for minimum wage and no chance for advancement.”

He sat forward. “No advancement yet, but you never know what the future was going to hold.”

“Bad meat to the gut, as it would turn out.”

He winced, and she wanted to take it back.

“You know, I liked working at Cloud 9. I had a place to be, good friends... I met you.”

She licked her lips, still covered in sticky gloss. “Was there a moment, you know, tonight, I mean, where you thought we were—”

He leaned forward. “No, but I wanted to.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then leaned in.

His kiss was gentle, hesitant. His lips were impossibly smooth, much smoother than her own, and he smelled really good, like a pine tree next to the ocean. She leaned in further, running her thumb over his jawline, where just the barest hint of a five o’clock shadow rested. 

He pulled back. “What about your— marriage?”

“It’s over,” she said. “Or, it was over, and now it’s really, irrevocably over.” She’d been too busy, too distracted to see it, but her marriage had been dying half-deaths for years. It had taken her actual death to sever it, but it hadn’t been a relationship for years. 

“And I’m not pushing you towards—”

She put her hands on his chest. “No. This was my idea.”

“And you’re sure—”

“Yes,” she said, and kissed him deeper. 

This time, he parted his lips, his tongue meeting hers halfway. 

***

“I knew it,” Mateo said, gesturing towards Amy’s hand, laced with Jonah’s.

“I think, on some level, everyone knew,” Jonah said, goofy smile on his face. 

“I didn’t say I cared,” Mateo said. “I _knew_.”

“Everyone knew,” Garrett said. “We told you to get it over with ages ago. But did you listen? No, you did not.”

“I’ll admit, I always thought we had a little bit of a Beatrice and Benedick thing going on,” Jonah said. Then, after a beat, “Like in Shakespeare.”

“Literally everyone knew that,” Amy said.

“I’ve read literally every Shakespeare out there,” Mateo said. 

“I mean, your love story is great, but some of us are married,” Dina said. “And we didn’t have to quote some dead guy to do it.”

“Shouldn’t you be on a honeymoon or something?” Garrett asked. “Why are you blessing us with your presence when you could be blessing us with your butt as you walk out this store for a few weeks?”

“I’m not leaving you clowns to mess this place up so we can go nowhere. The Medium Place is about twenty miles long. What are we going to do, stay at Mateo’s house?”

“You aren’t invited,” Mateo said.

***

“Hey, Amy,” Jonah said, coming up from below the covers. 

“Less talking, more of that.” She pushed down on his head, hoping he’d continue his machinations. There was a slight age gap between Adam and Jonah, and apparently, slightly younger men had been told that a woman’s pleasure was not only important, but the most important thing. She wasn’t going to complain. 

“It’s just... it’s been weeks and you haven’t even taken off your bra. And it’s fine if that’s how you feel most empowered in your femininity, it’s just that I, you know, would enjoy seeing you like that.”

“Yes, nothing more empowering than stripping for you.”

“It’s not some unreasonable— you can keep on whatever— it’s just me pointing out that if you wanted to stop wearing sweaters to bed, that would be amazing.”

“Listen, that’s sweet, but I know what sort of girls you date—”

“What, are you facebook stalking me or something?”

“And they’re all skinny, pretty, way more makeup than I have ever worn. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just don’t even know how to apply fake eyelashes, you know?”

“I don’t care about that stuff. I like you—” He started kissing her thighs, lightly. “You’re really hot to me, I promise.”

Amy relaxed a little, waiting for the good part.

“I mean, you probably wouldn’t know it, but used to sometimes, when I’d pull out my porn, I’d— drift, to you.”

“No way.” She sat up a little, resting on her elbows. “You jacked it in my honor?” 

“I wouldn’t phrase it that way.”

“You totally did. And I bet you were picturing these—” she gestured to her breasts— “the entire time.”

He paused. “I was. Is that—”

She reached down and grabbed his face for a kiss, cutting him off. 

She should have thought about that a year ago. 

***

They went on a date to the movie theater, where for whatever reason, they were only playing Adam Sandler comedies. After squawking about how he prefered art houses, Jonah picked The Wedding Singer.

“This movie is so dumb,” Amy said, secretly thrilled he’d picked the one good choice. 

Jonah handed her a box of popcorn, covered in that fake movie theater butter, and she helped herself before they’d even reached their seats. 

“How’d you like to spend eternity scooping popcorn for a living?” Jonah asked. “I know you think Heavenly Day is a drag, but this has to be worse.”

“It’s silly to have someone work here full time,” Amy said. “We’re literally the only people in the theater.”

“Well, someone has to run it, or else we’re cursed with Netflix and chill forever.”

“It’s weird, though, right? Because this place is a self-contained town. Every day at work, we get deliveries, but no one here is a truck driver. Who is dropping off that stock?”

“Do you think it’s some sort of angel situation?”

“No, that’s a ridiculous suggestion. But I don’t know how it works.”

***

“Hey Amy, I was thinking, what if we spent today getting ice cream, maybe do some people watching on the boulevard, whatever you want.”

She pulled the pillow over her face. “I’m good here, actually.”

She felt Jonah’s weight as he sat on the bed. “We could get birthday cake ice cream. That’s your favorite.”

“No, that’s _your_ favorite, even though you tell everyone you like butter pecan. I’m staying in bed today.”

“What’s the matter? Would you prefer to do something else, or...?”

“It’s Emma’s birthday today,” Amy said, sitting up. “Her twelfth. I gave birth to her a decade and two months ago. She was so small, you know? And her face was red. She was so _mad_ about being born.”

Jonah moved over, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize. That’s on me, I know you aren’t a mom anymore, but—”

“What did you say?” Amy asked, remaining very still. 

“Oh, just like you’re not really— I mean, it’s like you have a new life up—”

“I will always be—” She wrestled out of his arms, and ran out the door. 

***

The park was dingy and unkempt, but at least the weather was nice. There was a bench. She could sleep on the bench. It wasn’t like she had to worry about murder anymore. 

Unless there was some even greater death possible? Amy looked around. People probably couldn’t get into The Medium Place with murder on their hands, right? She was going to be fine.

Unless someone could get to The Medium Place and then become a murderer?

“Janet?” she yelled. 

“Janet’s here,” Janet said, suddenly seated on the bench next to her. 

Amy jumped in. “Can I die?”

“Everyone can die. Except for me. And Gabe.”

“I mean, can I die again? What if someone runs a knife through my throat here?”

“This has never come up in The Medium Place.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if it could, that’s a different thing.”

“We have only had The Medium Place for the duration of your stay here, but no one has ever died again in The Good Place. As far as The Bad Place is concerned, dying and waking up again is a feature, not a bug.”

Amy groaned. 

***

Amy decided to skip work the next day. It didn’t matter if she went or not, as far as she could tell. They were overstaffed, with six people working working a store that never had more than three people in it at a time. It wasn’t that she missed Cloud 9, but she missed being busy, too busy to contemplate how much she hated retail.

Besides, after a night sleeping on a bench, she was ready to do something else, literally anything else besides standing on her feet for hours at a time

She started walking. 

She passed office buildings, fast food, a day care bereft of children, a lone adult in the window looking out. She passed apartment buildings. She passed her own apartment building, her apartment. The light was on in her apartment, since Jonah hated coming home to a dark room. “It feels like I live alone, again,” he’d told her once.

She kept going, until she was at Heavenly Day, looking up at the sign. It had been clean ever since Dina had found a way to powerwash it using items from the garden section. She’d climbed the side of the building with a pick ax and a rope, under the unproven theory that she couldn’t die twice. 

Amy heard a truck horn, which was weird, given that there were no cars and no roads. She walked around to the back of the store, where the dumpster was. She crouched behind it, waiting. 

The loading dock was empty, and then it wasn’t. There were pallets of stock, shrink wrapped on the dock. 

“Whoa,” she whispered. 

She saw Glenn peak his head out the loading dock door, then went back in to grab a palletjack. 

The unseen truck beeped again.

***

Amy found a bar. It was a little dive-y, but she walked in anyway. 

The place was empty, but there was a little sign on the bar. _Bartender out. Help yourself._

That seemed easier. She slid behind the bar and grabbed the Jack Daniels. She grabbed a dram and poured it in. It was good stuff, and it went down smoky. She poured another, and mulled over what she’d seen earlier. She poured another, and thought of missing her daughter’s graduations. She thought about how she, Amy, would never get another graduation, how’d she’d wasted money on a semester that would never be finished. 

She poured another. And cried. 

***

“Listen, I know I freaked out about the thing you said,” Amy said, standing in the doorway of their tiny, bed-filled apartment. 

“I’ve been worried sick about you!” Jonah said, popping up to embrace her. “I’m so sorry about what I said about your daughter. I’ve felt non-stop guilt ever since. You’re still a mother. You’re like ten mothers. I just am not used to thinking of you outside a work context, you know—”

“It’s just. On earth, I told myself it was the money. I couldn’t go to college without money.”

“What about scholarships?”

She sighed. “It’s more than money, Jonah. It’s giving up a decade of seniority, it’s about getting to make the schedule so I can make sure I’m home for my kid. It’s not starting over somewhere new with a long commute, and worrying my husband is going to screw up yet another opportunity. He got to be the dreamer, not me. Someone had to be steady.”

“So it’s like cyclical poverty in action.”

“Thank you, Professor Jonah. No, it’s more like... there’s this quote about how if you farm pigs for thirty years, you don’t get to spend that time saying you should have been a ballet dancer. I wanted more, but at some point, wasn’t _doing_ retail, I _was_ retail.”

“Listen, you are more than your job.”

“Am I? I died and I’m still working the same job, for eternity. Retail is now my style, apparently.”

“You’re smart, and sharp, and witty, and a little mean sometimes, but in a funny way. I think you’re great. 

“It’s not that I think I’m better than the work, it’s just not how I wanted to spend my life. Or my afterlife.”

She sat on the bed, letting him join her, and they curled up together. She told him about the delivery she’d witnessed, and how strange it had been. 

“You know,” Jonah said, putting up a finger. “There’s no reason you couldn’t ask.”

“Ask about the weird magic?”

“Ask if you have a chance to do something else. Clearly, stuff still gets done without human hands. You know, I looked into it. No one around here caters weddings, but you and I both ate steak and it was cooked, technically.”

“I had the chicken.”

“And you didn’t get salmonella! You know, no one up here slaughters animals either, or grows apples, but we have plenty of food. It’s weird. It’s really weird.” Jonah shook his head. “I’m getting ahead of myself. They said this was the first Medium Place, or one of the first. Remember? They’re probably still workshopping the concept.”

“You want me to just call out to Janet and ask her if I can have a different career? Just like, _can you make this happen so I’m not stuck in a job I hate forever_?”

“Yeah. Janet, or Gabe if he’s still around somewhere.”

“That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard,” Amy said, mulling it over. The Medium Place was hardly Cloud 9 corporate. She _could_ ask. And if she got a no, she had eternity to change their minds. 

She would sleep in her bed, instead of a park bench, and she’d sleep off the whiskey, and in the morning, she’d go find Janet and ask. 

Amy was feeling lighter already.

**Author's Note:**

>  _It's no good running a pig farm badly for 30 years while saying, 'Really, I was meant to be a ballet dancer.' By then, pigs will be your style._  
>  Quentin Crisp


End file.
